


You Become Responsible (For What You've Tamed)

by rivlee



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Sam is a regular kid who has some interesting moments with nature over the years and Bucky is a selkie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Become Responsible (For What You've Tamed)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly expanded version from a prompt originally posted on tumblr [here](http://antiquecompass.tumblr.com/post/87547902385/sam-bucky-selkie-au) for lookashiny. 
> 
> The title is a slightly modified line lifted from _The Little Prince_.

_**Seven** _

The lake here smelled different than the swamp at Grandma’s house, but Sam still liked it even if they were so far from home now. Something about the water made him feel better; this new city might not be too bad even if they didn’t have much of a yard now. Momma said they could come out to this lake at least once a week. 

He stretched out on the worn, wooden dock, droplets rising up and hitting his face, and looked into the water. He skimmed his fingers across the surface and watched the ripples. He saw the shadow of something move below the surface and scrambled away. He still remembered the orange teeth of that nutria that almost bit him last year. Whatever was down there looked bigger than any water rat he’d ever seen. 

A snout peaked out of the water, whiskers twitched, and with a loud _whoosh_ , a seal flopped onto the dock. It blinked at him and shimmed forward.

“Uh…hi,” Sam said. 

He held out his hand and the seal made a noise. He stuck his fin out though, as if he understood. Sam took it and marveled at the feel of the leathery skin under his fingers. 

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, what have I told you about talking to wildlife?” 

Sam turned to wave at his mom, saw the hands on her hips and the tilt of her head, and jumped up. They’d just had that talk yesterday when he’d brought a bird home.

“Sorry,” he told the seal. “Moms, you know.”

He started walking up the path and heard pebbles skittering behind him. He turned around to find the seal behind him.

“Did you feed him?” Mom asked. “Sam, you can’t feed wild animals. You know better.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said. “I didn’t feed him though. We just shook hands.”

“Well, you can’t bring him home with you,” she said. 

Sam turned to the seal and shrugged. He pointed to the dock. “Can I walk him back?”

His mom shook her head even as she smiled at him. “Be careful.”

“I will,” Sam promised. He hurried back down the path toward the seal. “Let’s get you on your way home.”

The seal honked at him, but he followed. 

 

_**Fourteen** _

Sam loved this little beach. Hardly anyone came down this way, far from the main hiking trails and convenient restrooms. His mom loved to tell the story of their first trip here and the seal that tried to follow him home. They’d moved again a year after the seal story, but Sam still came back here at least once a summer for the past seven years. He’d never seen the seal again in all that time. The local Park Ranger said they weren’t exactly a common mammal to the area, but a few reports came up over the decades of seals wandering into the lake. 

Sam dropped his bag on the old dock, still sturdy if even more worn, and pulled out his towel. He had his camera with him to document the trees in the area and started to check the settings when he heard a splash to his left. Sam turned with a grin, imagining that his old seal buddy was finally back, and almost fell off the dock. 

There was a guy on the beach. A really hot guy. A really naked, really hot guy. 

“Um,” Sam said.

“You gonna take a picture?” the guy asked. His voice was rough; his words slow as if he didn’t talk a lot.

“Dude, where are you clothes?” Sam asked before he dropped his eyes. He tried not to stare, but _Jesus Christ_.

“Who needs ‘em?” the guy asked. 

He sat down next to Sam and Sam immediately looked to the sky. He rooted a hand around in his bag without looking and threw his extra set of jeans at the still naked man.

“You, uh, don’t want to get splinters in your ass. Or your feet. Or your di—anywhere.”

Naked guy shrugged, stood, and Sam absolutely turned his head in the completely opposite direction. He tried really had to concentrate on those trees he was supposed to be filming and just _what_ his mother would say when she found out about this, after she’d called the cops.

“You okay?” he asked.

Sam coughed and turned around. The stranger was awkwardly sprawled on the deck, as if unsure of what to do with his arms and legs. His hair was a mess full of sand and seaweed. He didn’t blink. 

“Yeah,” Sam said when he remembered he had a question to answer. “Just this isn’t exactly a nude beach, public decency laws are a suggestion, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to go on the sex offender registry, so I’m just going to be over here looking at those lovely trees over there.”

The guy had a nice laugh for someone with no shirt, no shoes, and apparently no problems. 

“I’ve see nicer,” the guy said. His bare toes nudged Sam’s thigh. “I promise not to steal your virtue.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “So, you got a name I can give to the Rangers to warn them about the naked man wandering this lovely watering hole?”

The smile that answered him was more vicious than kind. “Tell Fury that Bucky’s still around,” he said.

“Who the hell is named Bucky?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been called worse,” Apparently Bucky said. “So do _you_ got a name I can give the Rangers to warn them about young men staring at their lovely trees.”

“Sam.”

The smile was back with a hint of triumph. “Sam,” Bucky said, drawing out the sound. “I thought so.”

**_Nineteen_ **

Five years ago Sam had spent the whole day out here meeting a very strange man who apparently abhorred clothes and had very strong opinions on marine biology. When he’d told Park Ranger Fury about meeting Bucky, he’d just received a pat on his back and a warning to be careful about trusting himself with strangers. Sam hadn’t seen Bucky since. He still had yet to decide if that was a good or bad thing each time he wandered down the familiar path to the beach. At least he had photographic evidence and Fury’s promise that he was real.

“He’s a drifter,” Fury had told him two years ago. “He has his own patterns, though. You’ll see him back around here again, I guarantee.”

There was a loud squawk from the woods and Sam came to a skittering halt on the path. He strained to listen and swore he could hear a cry for help. He ran towards the sound, pebbles and roots making him stumble, until he found the source of the sound. 

A small black bird was stuck, flapping about in the rushing water of a stream.

“Shit,” Sam said. He’d only come out here to hike and photograph. He wasn’t prepared. “Shit, I don’t have my gloves. Fuck.”

He could either save the bird or watch it drown.

“Fuck it,” Sam said. He slid down the muddy bank and ignored the water seeping into his shoes. He worked quick, finding a small rope tied to the bird’s foot.

“What the fuck?” Sam asked. He pulled out his pocketknife and quickly cut the rope. “What kind of sick fucks try to drown a bird?”

_An asshole._

Sam fumbled the knife and looked around. 

_Down here_.

The only thing _down there_ was a bird.

“What the fuck is in this water here?”

_You don’t want to know._

Naked men and talking birds. No wonder so few people came to this part of the park. 

“I’m losing my mind,” Sam said.

_Hi, Losing My Mind. I’m Steve._

“You did not just fucking say that,” Sam said as he stared at the bird. Dad jokes. From a bird. “Jesus, we have to get you out of here if you think _that’s_ a good line.”

_I’m game._

“Why the hell not,” Sam said. He’d learned to embrace the weird. 

**_Twenty-One_ **

Sam Wilson, Ornithology Student, and caretaker of not-a-parrot-but-still-talking-Steve, did not actually live inside a Disney animated film no matter what his roommate Rhodey tried to tell him. He was not Dr. Doolittle. He did not talk to the animals, he talked to one _type_ of animal, and sure it was weird that he had Steve first, and then found his falcon Redwing, but everyone had their quirks, okay. Communicating with birds wasn’t the weirdest thing ever, and Riley said he had a future with his own Animal Planet show. Considering the cost of his student loans, he was almost tempted to follow Riley’s advice, even if Rhodey would lovingly mock him until the end of days. 

Sam still had the park at least. It was a new form of relaxation now as he enjoyed a post-midterm break. He’d spent most of the past two weeks inside the library or in lab. He reveled in the warm sunshine on his skin and the fresh air so far removed from the city. 

“Hi, Sam.”

Sam did not trip over his own two feet and almost hit the dock teeth first, no matter how the story would get told in decades to come.

“Bucky?” he asked. Naked guy was waiting for him on the dock. He had jeans on this time. He didn’t look any different after seven years. The hair was longer, still dark brown, still soft-looking, still unapologetically tempting to Sam who was a grown-ass man now and should not be feeling like he couldn’t breathe. 

“You got taller,” Bucky said. 

“You got…are those my jeans from seven years ago?” Sam asked.

Bucky stood, rolling to his feet with a grace that shouldn’t have made Sam’s knees go weak.

“We should go grab a bite,” Bucky said.

“There’s nothing for miles,” Sam said.

“Then maybe we should grab more than a bite,” Bucky said. His hand hovered above Sam’s arm. “You’re of age now, yes?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“You are unattached?” Bucky asked.

“If you’re asking if I’m single? Yeah. Thanks for the reminder,” Sam said. 

Bucky somehow leaned closer. “Are you uninterested?”

“In what?”

“Men, but me specifically.”

Sam figured he’d only get to live once and why the hell not now. He grabbed Bucky’s hand in his own, let his thumb rub a circle in his skin, and watched the shudder that went through Bucky’s body as if touch was an uncommon thing. For all Sam knew it _was_ ; Sam had better sense than this, but there were some things he would regret more for never doing than the consequences of doing something so monumentally stupid.

Unless Bucky was an axe-murderer. Sam would be really pissed then and personally haunt the hell out of him. This felt right though, like something slotting into place, and Sam always trusted his instincts.

“More than a bite?” Sam asked.

“If you’re offering,” Bucky said.

Sam laughed. “You must really think you’re hot shit.”

Bucky’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I won’t be offended if you say no.”

Sam tugged on Bucky’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get you a shirt and get out of here.”

_**Twenty Eight** _

Every seven years was a shitty way to do a long-term relationship, but those were the requirements when you were stupid enough to fall in love with a selkie. Seven years since the night Bucky had curled up into Sam’s lap and told his history in hushed words, whispering them into Sam’s skin as he left a trail of kisses to soothe the marks left by his teeth. Seven years since those three amazing weeks, with Bucky in his bed at night and by his side during the day, until one morning he’d left Sam’s borrowed jeans on his bedroom floor and slipped out into the dawn. Seven years since Sam understood what it meant to have a heart lost to the sea. Seven years since Sam had to realize what Fury really meant when he’d warned Sam to be careful. Seven years since Sam learned talking birds were the least of his concerns. Seven years of wanting, and grief, and dark moments wishing he could be the kind of man who could steal Bucky’s other skin, hide it, and burn it. Sam could never be that man though, and Bucky knew, so he left to spare him.

Seven years and Sam was at this dock again. 

It was dark this time, and Sam only knew the path because he’d walked it so often. He was used to feeling the sun as he stood at the water’s edge, but now it was the moon and the first bitter taste of autumn in the crisp air. 

“You came,” Bucky said. His voice was brittle this time, and hair lank. He didn’t look eternally youthful anymore. He’d lost weight. “I didn’t think you would.”

“I probably shouldn’t have.”

Bucky nodded. His hair was even longer now, down to his chest, and he seemed to hide behind it.

“I met you first when you were but a boy,” Bucky said.

“I was fourteen,” Sam said as he walked closer.

“No,” Bucky said. “You were younger. You stared into my water and ran your fingers right above my head. You shook my fin as if I was a friend.” Bucky held up his hand. “It left an imprint on me, I suppose. I just wanted to see you again.”

“Why?” Sam asked. 

Bucky’s shoulders tensed. “In all your myths it’s the other way around, you know. The selkie lures the human, and I suppose your kind sees it that way. They never talk about how your voices whisper to us, come through our waters, and tease us into wanting to hear more. They never write about what it costs us to leave you; to be torn between those we love and the waters that own us. Humans always forget they are not the only ones to be enchanted.”

“I don’t think True Love’s Kiss is going to fix this,” Sam said.

He’d done some research since Bucky left, and none of it was good. He dropped the bag he’d been carrying onto the wood planks. It left a hollow thud in the silence. He finally allowed himself to sit beside Bucky, to breathe in the comforting scent of his hair, and remember the days when that scent made him sleep with a smile on his face. 

“Would you burn my pelt if I asked?”

“No,” Sam said. “The sea is a part of your soul. I couldn’t cut that out.”

“What if I begged?” 

“Please don’t,” Sam said. 

“It is my curse, I suppose, to love such an honorable man,” Bucky said. His smile wasn’t happy. “Not that it is a thing I regret.” He pulled himself from Sam’s hold. He stood up and held a hand out. “Will you take me to your home one last time, Sam Wilson?”

Sam was an honorable man, but he wasn’t completely unselfish. He grabbed Bucky’s hand and refused to let go until he absolutely had to.

**_Twenty Nine_ **

Sam was putting up lost posters for Steve, who had somehow managed to get out of his cage and convinced Redwing not to say shit, when the call came.

“Wilson,” he answered.

“Mr. Wilson, this is Kate Bishop from the Bradley Wildlife Park and Preserve. We believe we found something of yours.”

“Ms. Bishop, I don’t think that’s possible. I haven’t been out there in months.”

“Look, man, I just make the phone calls. This guy is really quite insistent that he’s got something that belongs to you and he’s not going to get out of my office until you get here.”

Sam tried to ignore the jump his heart made. “What does he look like?”

“Tiny, blond dude. He’s glaring at me, now. Thanks for that.”

“I don’t know any—”

“Mr. Wilson, I can’t go to lunch until this guy is out of my office, and my superior said I can’t use a taser on him, so I’m begging you, and my stomach is begging you, to get here.”

“Fine,” Sam said. He drove out to the ranger’s office with a nauseating combination of fear and anxiety. 

When got there he did not recognize the man in the chair. He was as described. Tiny, blond dude was tiny and thin and Sam desperately wanted to feed him and give him a coat because he looked like he was freezing his tiny little ass off. Sam didn’t know him.

“Uh, hi,” Sam said. 

“We need to talk,” tiny guy said.

“We do?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Sam,” he said. “I know I don’t look myself lately, but that’s why we need to speak, preferably somewhere private.”

“Not my office,” the girl behind the desk said. “Take it outside.”

“Thanks, Kate,” tiny guy said.

“You are not welcome, Steve,” Kate said.

“Steve?” Sam asked. “Steve? Wait— _Steve_ -Steve?”

“As opposed to other Steves?” Steve asked. “Just turn and walk, we have a wedding to get to, and you kind of need to attend since it’s your own.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Walking,” Steve said. “Look, I don’t normally pull rank and shit, but I’ve had my familiar in your house for the past nine years, and I honestly hoped you and Bucky would’ve got your shit together by now. You’re too noble and he doesn’t think he deserves nice things, so I’m pulling rank.”

“What?”

“King’s Dominion,” Steve said. “Some bullshit magical law you don’t want to know about. Politics are their own hell.” He looked to the sky. “We should walk faster; we need to get this finished before sundown.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Who, what, when, where. There are other options, Sam.”

“What the fuck is going on,” Sam said.

Steve finally stopped. “Hi, I’m Steve. I suppose you could call me an Elf King, but my powers sort of extend beyond those limitations. You are Sam, an inadvertent guardian of my lands here in the Bradley Wildlife Park and Preserve since you were seven years old. You earned my loyalty when you freed one of my familiars, the bird you called Steve, when you protected him as opposed to trying to kill the demon bird putting voices in your head. That was a test. You passed. Congratulations.”

“What the hell,” Sam said.

“You’ve passed similar tests since then and so now we come to this option,” Steve continued. “I can’t change who Bucky is; he was born a selkie and a selkie he shall stay. I can nudge the limitations a bit if you’re willing to take another one of those grand leaps of faith that have you gotten you this far in life.”

“How much of a nudge and at what cost?” Sam asked. Nothing came for free, magical elf kings or not.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, every seven years he’ll have to come back here and live in the water for at least seven weeks. The Powers really like sevens.”

“You can do that?”

Steve shrugged. “I kind of just did? It’s contingent upon your choice, of course. Bucky’s too, obviously. We don’t go around forcing marriage on people, but we also don’t get to make this offer too often.”

Sam looked to the sky and saw the sun’s position. “So, by sundown?”

“Yup,” Steve said.

“How good are you at running?” Sam asked. 

Steve grinned. “Faster than you on your best day.”

**_Thirty_ **

Dried seaweed crowns hung above their bed. They lived near a different beach now, close enough to the water to hear and smell it, but far away enough to be firmly planted on land. Sam looked to the sea more often than Bucky most days. He was following the paths of the birds though for his current documentary. He usually spent at least one day a week watching Bucky’s family members swimming by or curious friends of Steve coming up to their dock for a chat. It was part of Sam’s new normal.

Bucky liked to spend his days reading, toes curled in the sand, and back against the beams of their back porch. He’d cut his hair after his first full month on land, though the scent of the lake where they met still clung to his skin. Bucky still abhorred clothes and saw little need for them; Sam never was all that keen on convincing him otherwise. Redwing was usually the only one to protest, so Bucky conceded to wearing Sam’s old jeans around the house. Sam had his suspicions that Bucky considered them his second pelt, a covering he was given and one he wanted by choice.

Sam smiled as Bucky’s arms slipped around his waist. “Watching the birds again? What are they chattering about?”

“Best place to put their nests,” Sam said. “I’ll have to tell Redwing to stay out of their way. He’s already perched on the roof watching them.”

“Later,” Bucky said. “Come back inside. Steve will be here soon with Peggy and their little changelings. Let us enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

“Okay,” Sam said as he let Bucky pull him back inside.

The water smelled different here, the air tasted sweeter, and the call of the gulls was constant. It was home in a way no place had been before.


End file.
